


The Vampire in Question

by enigmaticblue



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Spuffy twist on The Girl in Question, set in Ats S5. And the episode does get very twisted. I'm at my best when throwing canon out the window. Oh, and also? It's kind of fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vampire in Question

Buffy had decided to call it an early night. Although she appreciated what her sister and Andrew were trying to do by encouraging her to go out with the Immortal, Buffy just wasn’t feeling it. Sure, the Immortal was a good dancer, and he knew all the cool places to go and could get them in, but that didn’t mean that he was perfect for her.

Actually, he was nothing more than a passing distraction, and Buffy knew it.

Nothing could ever—would ever—compare to the feeling she’d had when her fingers had entwined with Spike’s in that cave, right before he went up in flames. It just figured—she finally told Spike that she loved him, they shared an incredible moment, and he died.

So far, her luck where men were concerned had been remarkably consistent.

She got out of the car that the Immortal had kindly called for her; Buffy had no illusions about where he was going to spend the rest of his evening. She had seen how a number of the women at the club looked at him, and he could have his pick. He probably would have been able to convince her to climb into bed if it hadn’t been for Spike.

Spike was just as charming, and there was no way that the Immortal’s brown eyes could compete with his blue ones.

They said that time healed all wounds, but Buffy didn’t believe them. She could have sworn that she missed Spike more with each passing day—not less. Going out at night, slaying, they all provided distractions that could only last so long. After that, Buffy was left alone with her thoughts and her regrets.

Buffy pulled out her keys to unlock the front door of her apartment building when it was pushed open, and she stared into Angel’s surprised face. “Angel?”

“Buffy, I—”

“Spike?” Catching sight of him standing just behind Angel, Buffy couldn’t believe her eyes. Spike looked like a deer in the headlights, about to get run over by a Mac truck. It was that expression more than anything else that told her everything she needed to know. “Upstairs, both of you.”

“Buffy—” Spike began.

Buffy just pointed inside. “Upstairs. Now.”

She watched as Angel and Spike exchanged guilty looks. “Buffy, we can explain,” Angel began.

“I’m not interested in listening to your lame explanations about why you hired someone to follow me,” Buffy shot back. “My apartment, _now_.”

The vampires trudged up the stairs ahead of her like two guilty little boys who knew that they were in big trouble. She opened the door for them and watched as they slunk inside. “Sit,” she ordered.

They sat obediently, heads down, hands hanging between their knees. “Well?” Buffy prompted. “What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

“I wanted to protect you,” Angel mumbled.

“Newsflash, Angel. I don’t need your protection.” Buffy raised an eyebrow as she looked at Spike. “And what about you?”

“I’m just along for the ride,” Spike muttered. “Peaches here needed to chase down a missing head an’ get it back to L.A. We’d have had it by now if your boy-toy hadn’t decided to play hide and seek.”

Buffy frowned. “Who?”

“The Immortal?” Angel prompted. “You two looked pretty cozy earlier.”

Buffy’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “I thought I felt vampires nearby,” she said. “Damn it, Angel! I thought you knew better than to follow me around now. And you!” She added, looking at Spike. “I _know_ that you know me better than that.”

Spike mumbled something that she couldn’t understand, and Buffy cursed all souled vampires silently. She finally sighed. “How long are you guys supposed to be here for?”

“We’re supposed to be leaving now,” Angel replied.

Buffy nodded. “Fine. Angel, you can go if you like. Spike, you’re staying here.”

They both looked at her, startled. “What?” Spike asked.

“You heard me,” Buffy said. “Angel can leave. Spike’s staying here. _We_ need to have a chat.”

Angel was the first one to protest. “I don’t think—”

“No, you _don’t_ think,” Buffy stated. “You had someone follow me, then you came and followed me yourself. And I don’t even want to know how long you’ve known that Spike was back among the living. I’m fairly certain that if I did find out, I’d have to kill you.”

“Buffy,” Spike began.

“Shut up,” she said furiously. “I’m going to have a conversation with you, and it’s going to be in private. Angel, you have two choices. You can leave and go back to L.A., or you can leave and wait somewhere. Not that Spike is going back to Los Angeles, but you’re still welcome to wait.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Spike protested. “I don’t know where you get off telling me where I can and can’t go, but—”

“I said shut up,” Buffy said. “I swear, Spike, you are _this_ close to being dust.”

Spike wisely shut his mouth.

“Well?” Buffy asked Angel.

Angel stood slowly. “I’ll keep the jet warmed up for you.”

Spike nodded his thanks. “You’d better head back to L.A. You’re goin’ to need to avert that feud as best as you can.”

Angel was obviously reluctant to leave, but he knew better than to mess with an angry Slayer. “Give me a call,” he said. “If you need a ride home—”

“Yeah, sure,” Spike replied. “I know where to reach you.”

They exchanged a look once again, which confused the hell out of Buffy, since she’d been sure that Spike and Angel hated each other. Like, a lot. Instead, here they were, acting like brothers—or partners in crime. At the moment, it was probably one and the same thing.

“How long have you been back?” Buffy asked as soon as the door closed behind Angel.

Spike shrugged. “Not quite a year. Was a ghost for part of that time, though, so it’s not like I could pick up the phone and call you.”

“Then how long have you been solid?” Buffy rephrased her question, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Not that long.” At her glare, Spike admitted, “A few months.”

“You want to tell me why you didn’t want me to know that you were alive?”

Spike sat back, looking a little sulky. “Not particularly, no.”

Buffy plopped down on the couch next to him. She was at a loss for words now that she’d forced him to stay. Maybe it was all a mistake; maybe she should have let him go. Spike seemed to have no desire for her company.

“You know, you could probably catch up to Angel if you want to,” Buffy finally said.

Spike looked at her sharply. “You seemed pretty intent on me staying a minute ago.”

“Yeah, well, that was when I thought you might actually talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Spike asked wearily.

“I don’t know!” Buffy burst out. “I shed a lot of tears over you, Spike. I missed you, and you didn’t even have the decency to call and let me know that you were alive. In fact, if I hadn’t shown up tonight, I probably never would have known.”

She noticed that he didn’t bother arguing with her. “’m sorry, luv. It’s just—I didn’t know what to say to you is all, not after…”

Buffy swallowed her hurt. “You really didn’t believe me, did you?”

“I believed that you meant it,” Spike said. “Didn’t know if it would stand up in the harsh light of day, so to speak.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve never been a coward, Spike. I don’t know why you felt the need to start now.”

“Excuse me if I didn’t want to get my heart trampled on again,” Spike snapped. “For all I knew, you could have said you’d moved on, or worse, kept me around for pity’s sake.”

Buffy glared at him. “If I wasn’t so happy that you were alive, I would smack you for that one. When have I ever done anything for you out of pity?”

“You rescued me from the First,” Spike pointed out. “An’ you didn’t kill me, even after I turned all those people.”

“That wasn’t pity,” Buffy replied steadily. “And if you couldn’t tell the difference, you really are dense.”

Spike let his head flop back on the couch. “So now what? You’ve got me here, an’ I won’t have a ride back home for a bit.”

Buffy stood with a sigh, tired beyond belief. She didn’t want to deal with this right now. What she wanted was a hot shower and her bed, and not necessarily in that order, either. “I’ll get some blankets to cover the windows.”

Spike looked around her living room. “Uh, Buffy, you’ve got a lot of windows.”

“Not in here,” Buffy replied, and headed for her bedroom, wondering if Spike would follow her.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“Wait. This is your room.” Spike poked his head inside. “Slayer…”

“Shut up, Spike. This is the safest room in the house, as far as vampires go.”

“I’m not tossin’ you out of your bed,” he protested as she finished putting up the blankets.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Who said I wasn’t sleeping in the bed, too?” At his open-mouthed stare, she repeated her eye roll. “We shared a twin bed a few times last year, doofus. I think I can trust you.”

“Buffy—”

“If you have to leave for L.A., I’d like to spend as much time with you as I can,” Buffy said resolutely. “It’s not everyday that one of my friends returns from the dead.”

“Is that what we are now? Friends?” Spike asked.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know. You tell me. I’m going to take a shower.” She shut and locked the door behind her, not because she didn’t trust him, but because she didn’t want to be disturbed, particularly if Andrew got back. He had a disconcerting habit of walking in on her when she was naked.

That, and she needed some time alone, to process what had just happened. Spike was alive—or undead—and he didn’t want her anymore.

“That is the meaning of irony, right there,” Buffy muttered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “Funny, but no one ever told me how much irony sucks.”

~~~~~

Spike folded his hands behind his head, frowning up at the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure why he had stayed; he was his own man now, and certainly didn’t need the Slayer telling him what to do. Of course, it was hard to say no to her when she was that brassed off, and he’d been struck dumb by the sight of her.

She’d changed, he noticed—gained weight and caught up on sleep. The strain of keeping a lid on the Hellmouth no longer showed in her face and eyes. She was so beautiful that it took his breath away—if he’d had breath.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her obvious distress over his not calling to let her know that he was back from the dead. It could be that she was just hurt, stung that she wasn’t at the center of his universe any longer. Or, maybe what she’d said in the Hellmouth, what she’d told him about mourning for him, was true in the sense that he’d like it to be.

Buffy had asked him why he hadn’t called, and in truth, Spike wasn’t sure of the answer. It had everything to do with fear, with the idea that what she’d said might not have been what she meant, and that she’d take him on again for a pity fuck.

_That_ would be worse than her using him.

“You asleep?”

Her voice drifted through the darkness. “No. Not yet.” The corners of his lips pulled up into a smile. “Haven’t slept well recently.”

“What have you and Angel been up to?” Buffy asked, slipping into bed next to him.

Spike had to bite back a groan as he felt her heat. It had been too damn long since he’d been with anyone—and Harmony didn’t count. They’d never been able to finish the job after all, what with her screaming and bleeding eyes and all of that.

“Not much.”

“I don’t believe that,” Buffy replied teasingly. “You guys seemed pretty chummy earlier, and I was under the distinct impression that you hated each other.”

“Hate is such a strong word,” Spike replied, falling back into their old banter. “Although, probably not completely inaccurate in this case. I’d call it a love/hate relationship.”

“Probably a little like Dawn and me,” Buffy observed, with uncharacteristic perceptiveness. “You might not always like each other, but you’re family.”

“That about sums it up,” he agreed. “Where is Dawn, by the way?”

“Staying with some friends tonight,” Buffy replied. “I think she wanted to give me plenty of room with the Immortal.”

“Right. Him.” Spike couldn’t keep the jealousy out of his voice, although he’d have given anything to be able to convince Buffy that it didn’t bother him.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to, Spike. I never meant that. It’s just that I saw you again, and I completely lost my head. It’s just—”

She didn’t complete her sentence, and Spike sensed that she was near tears. “Hey, now,” he said, trying to soothe, shifting to his side so as to see her in the darkness. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, luv. I was goin’ to come. Was all ready to set off, an’ then I got to thinkin’ ‘bout what I would say, and what you would say, and…”

Buffy snorted indelicately. “And who was it that told me that your blood doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of your brain?”

Spike frowned. “You remember that?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow, looking more than a little incredulous. “Um, yeah. That was only the best speech anyone has ever given me in my entire life.” She reached up to stroke his cheek. “After you were—gone, I kept replaying that night over and over again in my head. I would never have been able to go on if it wasn’t for you.”

Spike turned his head to brush his lips over her palm. “Could say the same for you, pet.”

She reached for him then, pulled him to her. “Please…”

“What about your boyfriend?” Spike asked, unwilling to be used again, only to be tossed aside for the Immortal, of all gits.

He could feel her glare even through the darkness. “The Immortal is not my boy-toy. We’ve gone out a couple of times, I’ve danced with him, and that was it. Everybody kept telling me, ‘You need to move on, Buffy. Date somebody, Buffy.’ If _you_ would have been here, or if I had known you were alive—”

Spike cut her off with a kiss, knowing that if Buffy got started on one of her rants, there would be no stopping her. She returned his kiss immediately, rolling them both over so that she was on top of him. “Buffy—”

“Hush,” she commanded. “Just be here with me.”

He couldn’t deny her, not when she was kissing him so sweetly, or when her hands were so tender. Spike hadn’t removed anything but his belt and shoes, and Buffy was tugging impatiently at the hem of his t-shirt.

Spike sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and falling back on the bed as Buffy ran her hands down his chest. “I’ve missed this.”

“Knew all you wanted me for was my body,” Spike replied with what he hoped was a smirk.

Buffy shook her head. “Not the sex. I’ve missed you, feeling you.”

Spike responded with renewed fervor, as if those words had released something in him. He pushed up her tank top, running his hands over bare skin. Buffy responded by pulling her top over her head, and the rest of their clothing shortly followed.

He loved the way she felt, the way she tasted, the way she moved against him. It had never been quite like this before—they had never made love before. There was desperation in their movements, but no roughness. That might return later, but this time—this time was for tenderness.

When Buffy lay, exhausted and spent, draped over him, Spike smiled. That had been quite the welcome.

“You know,” Buffy murmured, pressing a kiss to his bare chest. “What you said about my words standing up in the harsh light of day?”

Spike stilled. “Yeah?”

“You’ll never find out if you don’t stick around.”

“So, you want me around then, huh?”

“Duh.” Buffy raised her head to look at him. “What part of ‘I missed you’ did you not pick up on?”

Spike smiled a bit. “Well, luv, I’ve always been a little dense.”

Buffy gave him a very serious look. “I can handle dense if you promise never to give up on me again.”

He knew what she was asking him for, and Spike could have sworn he felt his heart beat—even though it was impossible. Buffy wanted him—Spike—to stay. For the long haul. “I can promise you that.”

“Good.” Buffy’s smile was radiant. “I meant what I said, Spike.”

“I know you did, luv.” Spike drew her closer, letting out a sigh and following her as she slipped down into sleep. Amazingly enough, Buffy really did love him.


End file.
